The Prodigy
by AmbitionMakesYouUgly
Summary: Who is Weavel? What was he like before he became a notorious bounty hunter? A tale of tragedy and triumph that takes place around the Metroid Prime 1 time period. Canonical to the main storyline. A constructive review is encouraged.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Nexus briskly walked down a stark hallway carrying a holopad in his right hand. It was night, and the moon shone brightly out of the occasional windows he passed by. Through them, Nexus saw incredible amounts of flora, fauna and wildlife. From the corner of his eyes, he glimpsed dark outlines of creatures darting to and fro among the towering trees. _Zebes_. Nexus was still adjusting to all this influx of nature he was taking in, after living his entire life on the Homeworld, a mechanized planet where acid rain dominated 97% of the forecast and not a sparse of nature remained. Nexus forced the nostalgia out of his mind and continued his walk until he reached a particular door labeled "Head Of Recruitment Office."

Nexus knocked once and a loud buzz pierced the air from an unseen speaker, signaling the Pirate Trainer to enter. Nexus did. Upon walking in, he saw a large room filled with volumes of holobooks. Stuff on Space Pirate History, Space Pirate's Great Achievements, Functions of Space Pirate Weaponary and whatnot. In the center of the vast area was a large copper colored desk and behind the desk sat an elder pirate, wearing a simple military garb and a simple headpiece. He was intently reading a holobook and had not once looked up at the Pirate Trainer who walked into his office. Nexus stood stoically in front of the desk for what must have been a full two minutes before the elder pirate lifted his eyes. For a brief moment. Then he resumed reading his holobook. The Instructor felt a sharp spike of impatience in him.

"Is there a problem, Nexus?" asked the elder pirate, not bothering to look up.

"I believe there is, sir." The Trainer replied, relieved he was able to talk.

The elder pirate remained silent. The Trainer continued.

"I have received the recruitment list from your Office today that shows all the Pirates that are coming from the Homeworld to Zebes to be trained and placed in the main force. But," Nexus took a small pause. "there seems to be a mistake."

The elder pirate remained silent. The Trainer pressed on.

"There's one individual on the list who is far too young to train for the main force. He's not even old enough to graduate Primary School. So I think there must have been some mix up with the-"

"There was no mix up." interrupted the elder. "The list is right."

Nexus did an internal double take. Then he resumed talking with a perplexed expression.

"Sir, this Pirate, this "NB-810", is barely a boy. He is only 14 years of age (_bear in mind, Readers, that Space Pirate aging and Human aging are relatively close, with Pirates having a slightly longer lifespan_). Even if he passed through all the required courses, his body cannot handle the physical stress this training will put him through!"

"He will be able to live through the training. You are, with all due respect, woefully ignorant of what NB-810 is capable of. I and my fellow High Commanders had the privilege of seeing him at the Primary School back on Homeworld and let me tell you this:" the elder pirate looked up and looked straight at Nexus in the eye.

"The boy is a genius. A prodigy. The likes of which I have never seen in my 20 years as Head of Recruitment. You will train NB-810, Nexus. It is my order and High Command's. We see a bright, bright future for the youngling. So much…potential rests in this boy. So his failure to graduate will be _on your head_."

With an air of finality, the elder returned to his book and said no more. Nexus meekly left the office, his head full of daunting thoughts. If the list was correct and true, then this unknown NB-810 will soon become the youngest Pirate in history to be trained for the main force. Nexus is a veteran instructor. He has been training Pirates for 10 years now. 10 years of training _properly aged, physically adept _Pirates. So how is he supposed to put a child through the most grueling military program in the known galaxy without killing him? And the Instructor knew that the death of the kid would bring all of High Command's fury on him. Nexus went to his bunk, troubled with these prospects all night and until the morning after.

Does the Trainer know he would be teaching a child who would grow up to be one of the most charismatic and deadly warrior in the galaxy? Does he know that this child, NB-810, would abandon his name and race and become a hunter whose ideology isn't the promise of conquest, but of fortune? Does he know that this prodigy would fight the greatest Hunter of all time and, perhaps unbelievably, live to tell the tale?

Everything goes together in the end. Everything will fall into its right place.


	2. I

_Author's Note: So this is the first chapter of "The Prodigy. I'm not sure how long I will make the overall story, but I'm hoping less then 20 chapters._

_I also noticed that some writers have songs that correlate with their work. While I did not have any specific songs in mind while making this fanfiction, I can definitely see the album __Kid A__ by Radiohead being a soundtrack to "The Prodigy". I especially favor the songs: __Optimisti__c, __Idioteque__, __Everything in Its Right Place__ and__ The National Anthem_

_._

_Well, this is Chapter 1. And I also encourage you guys to submit a review. Thanks for reading!_

**I**

A large ship descended down Zebes' atmosphere and landed squarely in the middle of a large, grassy field. The large hangar doors opened and a battalion of Pirate Trainees emerged and lined up in front of the large recruit ship. Each pirate trooper over seven feet tall and each of them had their backs hunched over.

All except one Pirate. He was not as muscular as his fellow recruits. He was also about a full head shorter then the rest of them. As a result, his standard military uniform looked a little too large for his frame and it hung more loosely then it should have. His back, however, was quite straight, which was extremely unusual for a Space Pirate. Yet because of his height, no one really noticed this odd trait.

How did I get here?

NB-810 stood alongside the fresh faced graduates. With his posture straight and hands at his side, the young Pirate waited for the arrival of the Army Instructor. The sun was firmly placed in the center of the sky and its punishing heat was corrosively beating him down. He heard the whiny buzzes and screams of miniscule insects around his ears and above his head. He glanced upwards for a brief moment and saw dark shapes with wings gliding lazily in the sky. So many creatures and so much evidence of nature and organic components. The Homeworld he was raised in was already becoming a distant memory. NB-810 thought he would go mad.

How did I get here?

NB-810 paused. He tried to remember when he first realized there was something quite special about himself. It felt so long ago…

First day of Primary. NB must have been, what, five or six years old? Anyways, he remembered the first day of Introductory Combat Class. The shriveled, senile Instructor was teaching the children about elementary battle forms and techniques. NB wasn't paying too much attention. Most of his focus was on a thin piece of metallic foil he found while walking into the classroom. He enjoyed twiddling it with his fingers.

"You! NB-180!"

He remembered the sharpness and volume of that voice. It made his head snap up rather quickly. The Instructor looked irked.

"Care to repeat to the class what I just said?"

He stared stupidly at the Instructor. Some of his classmates giggled. The Instructor scoffed. It was the meanest, most derisive sound that the six year old has ever heard. Something deeper then embarrassment bubbled in his stomach.

"Seems like we got some work to do. Don't you think, NB-810?"

"Yes, sir."

NB hung his head in shame and was in a humbled mood for the rest of his first day. As he prepared for his second, the boy made a vow to work hard and never make his teachers scoff at him like that again.

Fourth (or was it third?) year of Primary. NB has proved himself to be an extremely gifted and accomplished student. He remembered memorizing steps to complicated combat techniques in a day and mastering them usually in a week. It wasn't long before he was completely ahead of students in his level. In subjects besides combat, NB-810 showed similar progress. He excelled in Pirate Lore, Weapon Management, Basic Engineering, and Marksmanship. In a few months time, he finished his level's curriculum, something that usually takes a full year to complete. The Primary's head officer was very interested in NB's meteoric academic progress. One day, he invited him to his office and talked with him about some advanced courses he can take alongside older students. The ten year old agreed.

And look at where that decision brought me…

Sixth year. NB was ready to graduate from the Primary. The trouble was that he was only twelve. Far too young to join the army like regular graduates would do. The head officer knew he couldn't keep NB here for eight more years until he was of proper age. He started sending numerous transmissions to the newly started training camp on Zebes to accept the youth. And the return transmission was always the same: "Wait."

The old geezer didn't give up though. He kept on urging the base to recruit NB-810 and train him. Finally, he called him to his office to talk about the army's decision.

"Unfortunately, the camp at Zebes doesn't seem to realize your excellent abilities here at this Primary and won't allow you to be a true Pirate until you are of normal age."

"That's a shame, sir. Perhaps I can stay here and be an assistant to the Instructors. I do not mind waiting for a couple more years."

"That will not do, NB-810!" said the head officer in a forceful tone. "I will make sure you get into the army as soon as possible. I will vouch for you to High Command itself!"

NB was taken back. Making a direct statement to High Command could have disastrous effects if the message is not to their liking. Before he could utter a word of protest, the head officer dismissed him from his office.

NB went down to Introductory Combat Class. His old, senile teacher had died a couple of years ago. The new Instructor was a youthful, naïve thing who was soft on the younglings. He hired NB-810 as his substitute shortly after the boy finished Primary to fill in for him in case he was absent. And today, the fool was gone to who knows where.

NB looked at the curious, innocent faces staring at him. It's hard to believe he's training them to eventually kill others. Training them to steal a life. Training them to cut it short. But something about being an influence in each of the youngling's lives held a particular fetish to the twelve year old. Why it did, he could never understand.

He remembered seeing a vacant boy looking out of a window in the room. NB checked his list to see who this boy was. He called out in a voice full of sharpness and volume:

"You! QX-50!"

The boy's head snapped up. Inwardly, NB-810 was laughing gleefully. Outwardly, he scoffed.

"Seems like we got some work to do. Don't you think?"

Two years later. NB-810 was sparring with non-lethal energy scythes with a group of tenth year students when he remembered seeing two figures enter the practice room. One was the wizened head officer. The other was a Space Pirate with very elaborate armor and wearing an intricate headpiece. NB recognized him as member of High Command. He immediately stopped his mock fighting and acknowledged the illustrious member in the appropriate manner. His tenth year opponent followed suit. The High Commander bowed his head to both of them and motioned them to continue. NB resumed his sparring, aware of the Commander's gaze on his form, techniques and strategy. He ignored it and refocused his mind on the battle.

This particular tenth year was quite a challenge. His offense was formidable and his defense was solid. However, NB saw that he attacked with his scythe far away from his body and rarely came up close to engage in combat. NB took advantage of the tenth year's exploitable weakness and rushed up closer to him, using sharper movements instead of longer swipes and cuts. Flustered, his opponent was beaten quite soundly in a few minutes time with a hit on his right side. Then another lined up to spar and so forth.

NB-810 wiped a film of sweat from his brow. All the students were gone and he was the only one left to clean up the room. Mopping the floor, the fourteen year old remembered feeling a tap on his shoulder. He turned around and saw the High Commander in front of his face. It was sheer luck that he did not drop the mop right then and there.

"Your sparring skills are quite incredible, NB-810." said the High Commander.

The boy thought over his words carefully in his head. Saying the wrong thing to the highest ranking Space Pirate usually meant a painful death.

"I do not deserve such praises from your lips, Lord Commander." NB said quietly.

"Believe me when I say you deserve it all and more. I have heard about your numerous achievements from this Primary and, shame on myself, did not believe more then half of it." The High Commander laughed softly. "How wrong am I!"

Pride involuntarily swelled up in him and NB couldn't help but smile. A High Commander was actually praising him! Some Pirates would die for the compliments he was getting.

"And I am very pleased to tell you," said the High Commander, laying his hand on the youth's shoulder (NB almost fainted; he was getting touched by a High Commander!) as he continued, "the Space Pirate army has decided to enlist you after your headmaster's persistent requests. You will be sent to Zebes alongside the other graduates in a month where you will begin your training."

NB was shocked and it must have been evident for the Commander let out a boisterous laugh.

"Cheer up, soldier! You look like you've seen a dead Pirate! Realize that you are the youngest recruit the army has ever accepted! An unprecedented movement! I will see you in a month, NB-810!"

The fourteen year old was still silent. NB still doesn't remember what he was feeling that moment. It must have been very incapacitating, for he forgot to acknowledge the High Commander leaving the practice room; a crime punishable only by death.

Ah.

NB-810 was still waiting in his row. He was sweating profusely underneath his uniform. The sun was blazing. The hidden wildlife in Zebes' jungles was making strange noises. NB could hear the labored breathing of his comrades, most of whom came from a different Primary then the one he attended. What loneliness!

Finally, a strident whistle was heard over the expansive training field. The whistle of an army Instructor. The recruits stood at attention and the faint outline of a Space Pirate could be seen jogging from a gray, blocky building on the other end of the field. He was tall and muscular, even for a Space Pirate. His face was steely and hard, like Talloric alloy. Despite this, the Instructor looked surprisingly young. Like most Pirates, his back was dramatically hunched over.

Nexus looked at each recruits. Promising forms and faces. A good batch this year. He immediately recognized NB-810, who looked so out of place that Nexus was inclined to burst out and laugh. But in an impressive demonstration of control, his face remained steely. After a through examination of the troops, he finally addressed them in a booming voice:

"Alright, you worthless pieces of bile and scum! Welcome to day one of training. You'll be assigned bunk rooms at Main Building A and you will go to your bunks and deposit the worthless piles of crap you brought with you. Report back here in twenty minutes. GO!"

There was spontaneous movement of feet as couple hundreds of trainees ran frantically to Main Building A. NB-810 did his best to avoid being trampled as he tried to keep pace. But soon, he was outpaced by taller, stronger legionaries and he was left running far behind the group.

"I am a fool. I am a damned, damned fool."


	3. II

_Author's Note: I had to delay my fanfiction for a while due to school stuff, finals, etc. Now that it is all over, hopefully there won't be too many long delays and I'll be able to produce chapters a lot faster. My goal is to finish before Metroid: Other M is out. _

**II**

Luckily for the recruits, the bunks were brand new. The entire barrack was completed only a few months prior to their arrival and was in pristine condition. The lavish treatment already had veteran soldiers on the base calling the newbies "spoiled brats" and other such insults.

NB-810 looked around his room. Small and modest, with only two beds, a desk, a chair and a window. He could tell his roommate already came here as his luggage was on one of the beds. NB set his stuff down and went up to look out of the window, seeing the main command base in the far distance. Sighing, he tries to make the most out of his reprieve before training begins. He had around five minutes to spare before he had to jog back to the training field. He sat down on his bed, constantly looking at the time. He breathed in slowly and deeply. Yet he still couldn't shake off his anxiety, which coiled around his stomach like a snake.

Five minutes later, NB was on the field along with the other freshmen. Nexus, the tall, lean Instructor, was staring down at them. By his flank were two others with hardened faces.

"You know what is great about training in the field?" Nexus barked to the recruits. "There is no sense of time here. There's not gonna be any set schedules here like in the Primary. We're gonna train on this field until I see that each and every one of you are sweating, spitting and peeing blood! And while we are training, do not consider yourselves Pirates. Do not consider yourself to be a soldier. Right now, you are the lowest forms of life on this planet. The piece of mud at the bottom of my boot has more significance then any of you put together. Do you ladies understand?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" the recruits shouted.

"Sound off like you got a pair, maggots!"

"SIR, YES, SIR!"

"Now I want all of you to run around the field three times without stopping. A little warm up. Anyone who stops, I will personally kick your ass so hard you'll be wearing it for a hat!"

NB-810 took a quick glance around the field. Maybe be three or four kilometers around. It was manageable. The coiled anxiety loosened in him.

"Do you understand?"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

"You call that a scream? I need you to SCREAM! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

"SIR, YES, SIR!"

Nexus blew a whistle and the regiment took off running, leaving small clouds of dirt behind their feet. An Instructor approached Nexus.

"You reckon that NB brat will keep up with all this?" he asked.

"My opinions don't mean anything, Gray. I better make him keep up with all this. From what I heard from the guys who knew him at Primary, he was pretty built."

"Being a 'pretty built' fourteen year old will still get him killed doing all this." Gray retorted. "I don't know what High Command was thinking sending him here."

Nexus didn't respond. He looked at the trainees. They were almost done with the first lap.

"Kid's good at running, at least."

NB-810 ran past the Instructors, only a few Pirates behind from being first. No loud labored breathing from the group. A good sign.

"YOU CALL THAT RUNNING? I CAN CHOP MY LEGS OFF AND RUN FASTER THEN YOU TWINKLED TOED PIECES OF SCUM!"

Motivated, the trainees quickened their pace, none willing to find out what would happen if they lagged behind. NB was being pushed aside running alongside the bigger Pirates. He jogged alongside the edges of the field alone. Before he knew it, he was done with the three laps. Hardly a sweat broken. NB prided himself to be particularly good at running in Primary. Perhaps the Instructors will see this and-

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?" Nexus roared at a surprised group of trainees. "YOU EXPECT TO BE IN THE SPACE PIRATE ARMY RUNNING THAT SLOWLY? DON'T EVEN LET THE THOUGHT OF GRADUATION ENTER YOUR HEAD IF YOU CANT COMPLETE THOSE LAPS TWO MINUTES FASTER THEN YOU DID TODAY. DO YOU MAGGOTS UNDERSTAND?"

"SIR, YES, SIR!" The recruits bellowed.

"The group will now be split into a section of three. Each group will be taught by me, Instructor Gray, or Instructor Point. Because we are hard, you will not like us. But the more you hate us, the more you will be suited to serve in the glorious Space Pirate Army. We are not going to ease you into training. We are going to push you as far as you can go, starting from today and ending until graduation. First group will consist of GW-328, FA-492…"

Nexus assigned all the trainees into a respective group. NB-810 was placed in Group B, under the tutelage of Instructor Gray. After being assigned, Gray's group went all the way to the end of the field, away from the other teams training.

"Line up!" Gray shouted. All the recruits immediately got into the standard formation. Gray slowly walked alongside the rows of Pirates, inspecting them like a cat would an unprotected mouse.

"Today, we will be focusing on drills only. There will be breaks only when I say so. So don't even consider asking for a rest or, so help me, I will unscrew you scrawny heads and take out your insides like a Xorbow. Do you understand?"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

"The first exercise will be called 'run and cover'. What you do is…"

So that was how the day went. NB-810 learned simple drills that were excruciatingly easy to learn and he, alongside other newbies, executed them in front of the Instructor. But while the drills were plain, they taxed on his strength. Each time he executed a "run and cover" or a "hard sprint", he felt his arms hurting a little bit more, his legs aching a little bit more. And despite the fact NB was doing them perfectly (in his own mind), he would always see Gray in front of his face, screaming expletives and spit , telling him he is not doing it right. At one point in the training, NB looked at his comrades to see how they were doing. And none of them were sweating like he was. NB was getting furious at his weak, fourteen years body. While he was drowning in his own perspiration, the others weren't even slowing down. At another point in the training, he looked at the sky. The sun was still up and shining brightly as ever. Looking at the sun also made NB-810 become even more aware of the heat beating upon his head like furious punches and slams.

More time passed by and NB lost all awareness of going from one drill to the next. All of it was, to him, mindless actions and reactions. He lost awareness of the Instructor yelling in his face, of sweat pouring down like water and blood, his heart pumping to burst, his comrades besides him. Every time he lived through another pointless movement, he was convinced his arms and legs would separate from his body or his lungs would collapse. It was during this brief moment of concern for his own body that he regained some semblance to independent thought. NB-810 also remembered a break. Yes, there was a break, wasn't there? Where he greedily swallowed a cup of cool liquid (the taste eludes his mind). Didn't he feel a moment of relief? Whatever that relief was, it has been long forgotten. Perhaps he imagined it all. Perhaps the break, the liquid, the coolness, never took place. Perhaps it was just a dream, a momentary and insignificant dream.

This would have continued all day had it not been for an unlikely intervention. During an especially complicated movement, NB-810 caught his own foot and tripped, falling face down on the field. Gray stomped over to him and picked him up by the back of his shirt.

"Can you tell me why you just screwed up the perfect rhythm the group was drilling at?"

NB's mouth might as well have been sandpaper. His heavy breathing dried out most of his saliva.

"Don't want to answer, you little piece of slimy sh-"

With a vicious movement, Gray swung his hand into the young recruit's check. NB-810 fell into the field a second time. The impact of both punch and ground shook him to his senses. He became aware of the utter tiredness in his arms and legs, the stinging, burning pain in his face. He became aware of the sweat pouring profusely down his body. He became aware of his comrades; now they too were sweating, though not as much. He became aware of the sky; the sun has vanished, tucked away by the night. He also became aware of…water? NB felt drops falling on his face. He heard a crack of thunder somewhere in the distance and the sound of rain hitting the field and the barracks. Rain. It was raining. Oh, so _that_ is how I tripped.

Rushed with sensations, NB-810 wobbled slightly to get up. He looked at Gray. He swallowed and spoke.

"Sir! The recruit tripped and unbalanced the rhythm of our training because the wetness of the field caused him to trip and fall. Sir!"

Gray looked at him with a piercing gaze. Then he walked in front of Group B. Lighting forked the sky and thunder sounded off moments later. The storm was getting close.

"Line up!" The recruits got into the standard formation. Heavy breathing was all that could be heard.

"Go to your barracks and rest up. You will hear the dinner bell in approximately forty five minutes. Clean up before you go to the mess hall; I don't want it stinking of sweat while I eat. As ease and dismissed!"

NB-810 walked into his dorm and saw a large recruit changing his uniform. He was extraordinarily muscular, as shown by his bare, defined chest, with a posture as straight as an iron bar. However, his eyes looked different then any of the other Pirates NB had met before. They weren't cold or hard, like Nexus'. Yet they weren't exactly warm and friendly either. NB made the first contact.

"I'm NB-810. I'm guessing you're my roommate. What is your name?"

The muscular trainee looked at him with a mix of curiosity and surprise. Perhaps he didn't know his bunkmate would be NB-810, the youngest Pirate to train in the Army. Or was it disgust in his gaze that a boy is training alongside almost full mature Pirates?

"I'm UP-787. But most call me Upsilon."

He went back to changing into a clean uniform. NB-810, realizing the introduction was finished, went into the hygienic facility to wash up for dinner.


End file.
